


Drag Along

by Coalmine301



Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crawling Across the Floor, Disembowelment, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalmine301/pseuds/Coalmine301
Summary: All Obi-wan could do was lay numbly on the polished stone floor. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. But he had to.
Relationships: Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908538
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Drag Along

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Whumptober prompt "trail of blood"
> 
> You know how in media when a character has been stabbed or whatever and they're on the ground, only able to weakly crawl across the floor? And the antagonist looms over them, slowly following behidn them menacingly? That sh!t's great! We should have more of that.

All Obi-wan could do was lay numbly on the polished stone floor. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. But he had to.

And so he dragged himself across the fine granite. Obi-wan didn’t know what direction he was going, felt he didn’t care, but knew he just had to go. One hand clawed forward, pulling him along. His legs felt numb, not cooperating to his brain's commands. It was agonizingly slow going but Obi-wan didn’t dare stop. He didn’t think he could bring himself to start again.

The other hand was pressed firmly to his stomach. His actual stomach now that the flesh there had been torn away. Occasionally bile would rise in his throat as he felt his organs, slick with blood, shift beneath his hand. Or above it, rather.

No doubt he was leaving a red trail in his wake. His tunic and leggings felt damp with blood, the metallic scent filling his nose.

“Where do you think you’re going, Kenobi?”

Even if his mouth hadn’t been rapidly filling with blood, Obi-wan didn’t think he could answer. Instead he focused on pulling himself along in a pathetic attempt to escape.

The only sounds in the room were Obi-wan’s strained breaths and the harsh padding of Count Dooku’s boots against the floor. He walked slowly, his shadow looming over Obi-wan’s rapidly weakening form. He said nothing, simply followed his grandpadawan as he valiantly tried to crawl away. 

As Obi-wan panted and shuddered he realized he really shouldn’t have agreed to this so-called peace-talk. Looking back it was so obviously a trap. He simply hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t he noticed? 

Whatever the reason the facts remained the same. No one knew he was here. No one was coming to the rescue. He was going to die alone here with no one knowing what happened.

Dooku seemed to realize this as he followed after the rapidly weakening Jedi. Vulture amber eyes hungrily roamed the redhead’s torn form. Waiting for him to die. It was only a matter of time now. 

And all Obi-wan could do was drag himself along.


End file.
